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Sex and the Shitties


I love my husband pretty much all the time. I have my moments, he has his. As most would agree, marriage is full of highs and lows. We have tons of disagreements and since we’re both pretty stubborn we win equally, so it works out just fine. However, you wanna really set me off, give me shit about our sex life. This will most likely be the cause of his undoing.


I should preface by saying, we have sex. Always more than once a week, usually a couple, and don’t forget the other times where we… mess around. (Can’t get too graphic, my in-laws might read this.)


Why don’t you want to have sex, you may be asking yourself- it’s quite an easy answer.


Because I’m fucking exhausted is why. While I’m doing my job (as a writer who works from home, which does, in fact, count as work), I’m also cleaning the house, making grocery lists, making breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and snacks, doing the laundry, taking out and bringing in the garbage, paying the bills, going to all the kids’ crap at school, baking snacks for a school trip for Parker, going to the stores, picking up prescriptions, dropping off dry-cleaning, feeding the cat, taking the cat to the vet, taking the kids to the dentist/doctor, making appointments, filing taxes, calling the insurance company (pick one), answering the door for Greenpeace activists and enabling a $45 monthly donation to start occurring...


And before I know it it’s 11:00 in the afternoon (yes, that’s considered afternoon my time) and I need to eat lunch because I’ve been up since six and have only had a coffee.... that I made. So I grab a handful of Pirate’s Booty and a carrot.


And then it’s time to unload the dishwasher while I’m on a conference call, meet with the cable guy, take a shower (bahaha, just kidding!), do some half-assed jumping jacks and power walk around the kitchen island for ten minutes, while on another conference call (on mute of course), while being interrupted with six text messages of heart GIFs and two FaceTimes and three missed calls from my mom (who just wanted to say hi and see if she properly sent a GIF), scroll through work emails on my phone while watching BBC News on the TV so I know what’s going on in the world while looking up who wore what to the Oscars on my computer (I’m busy, not dead), write a blog for my own blog-site after writing four blogs for other blog-sites.


And before I know it it’s 2:00 in the evening and I need to get to the grocery store (I inadvertently polished off the Pirate’s Booty, punishable by death, and my cat needs treats before he spontaneously combusts) before I get the kids, and since I’m getting the kids, I need to get wine too because kids and wine go together like Laverne and Shirley (RIP Penny Marshall).


And then I get the kids and that’s when my day really starts. After the shitshow of carline, there’s the shitshow of the drive home where my kids fight over who’s gonna tell about their day first, and fifteen minutes later when we pull in the driveway everyone is crying and I’ve not heard about anyone’s day (but I have pulled out a cork with my teeth *mental note: make dentist appointment for self* and am going to sit in the car and drink in the driveway for a solid five minutes while pretending I’m on the phone so my kids leave me alone (bahaha, just kidding- if I’m on the phone, pretend or not, my kids are literally sitting on my lap while doing cartwheels, handstands, and karate- oh, it’s possible.). So I take my wine and go in the house and get a proper glass and start drinking at a very appropriate 3:30 at night.


And then I start fighting with the kids about homework which I help them with, setting the table, which I help them with, finishing putting dinner together, which I help them with, feeding the cat, which I help them with (for time’s sake, I’m going to start using WIHTW going forward in this post), laying out their clothes, WIHTW, our one-hour of time together to do whatever they’d like, usually games where they fight and throw pieces across the room, or puzzles, in which pieces somehow end up in my wine glass. Then I take my husband’s call and he’s grabbing a quick drink with Karl but will be home soon, so the kids and I eat dinner. Then bathtime! WIHTW, lotion, WIHTW, jammies, WIHTW, hair, WIHTW, bedtime snack, WIHTW, reading a story, WIHTW, movie-time (separating them due to fighting so I go from room to room every ten minutes, so obviously this is a WIHTW), teeth brush, WIHTW.


And then Matt’s home! I get his dinner warmed as he tells me how physically draining his day was and he’s so sore and his drive was too long and he got stuck in traffic and they ran out of Foster’s at the bar so he had to drink a Heineken and he’s too tired to play with the kids but they can be very calm in the same room as us- so they do that but aren’t calm and they fight about sitting next to me and Parker starts doing handstands and Matt just simply can’t take it so I put them to bed because it’s 8:00 in the middle of the night and they fight over who gets put to bed first even though we take turns, but hey, let’s not miss an opportunity here. So I get to hear all about Parker’s day after we say prayers and I rub her back for 100 seconds (she counts), then I put Axl to bed and I hear all about his day after we say prayers and he talks a shit-ton of nonsense that is putting me to sleep.


And finally, my wine is waiting for me and I walk out to watch TV with Matt and talk about MY day and he’s sound asleep on the sofa. I gently touch his arm to wake him up and he rolls away, so I go wash my face and brush my teeth (yeah, I’m drinking wine after I brush my teeth), get into bed (yeah, I’m drinking wine in bed), put on Vanderpump Rules and am in complete heaven for six minutes before I fall asleep... To be awaken at 11:00 in the middle-MIDDLE of the night to Matt getting into bed, pouting because I didn’t wake him up from the sofa and he wants to have some “sexies” (his word, not mine) and well basically, go fuck yourself.

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